


Of Tea and Ceremony

by junko



Series: Curse of the Nue [13]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-05
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-11 12:34:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji just can't stand seeing Byakuya like this, with his cute, 'I-haven't-had-my-tea-yet,' grumpy face on.  Then, the captain pours the tea....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Tea and Ceremony

After making sure Aizen disappeared down the road away from the Sixth, Renji made a quick stop at the main office to check in with the Third Seat to make sure there were no more surprises on their way and to give that kid a piece of his mind. Then, he headed back up to see just how ticked off Byakuya was after such an intense, unexpected breech in their defenses.

“I don’t know how that happened, sir. Captain Aizen must have slipped through when everyone was at the mess. Trust me, the Third Seat knows better now,” Renji said by way of an apology.

Byakuya nodded, and beckoned Renji inside to join him for breakfast.

 _Crap_. Renji thought, kicking off his sandals to leave them outside the door. He’d purposely only stuck his head in, hoping to avoid any extended interaction with the captain. _I can’t take the intimacy of this_.

Especially since Byakuya still looked so… owly.

He was dressed in his uniform, of course. He’d never have seen Aizen otherwise. Byakuya wore the kenseikan in his hair and that wickedly expensive scarf around his neck, but the captain still had on his grumpy, I-haven’t-had-my-tea-yet face, which Renji remembered so fondly from the Hanami. No one else would see it on him, of course. They’d just observe Byakuya’s usual unflappable regally distant expression. Renji, however, noticed the slight tightness in his mouth and the tiredness behind his gaze. It was a cutely irritated, early morning expression that always made Renji want to poke Byakuya, just a little, to rile him up.

Renji frowned at the thought, and made his way over to the low table, to the familiar spot he’d occupied so often before.

The early summer light shone bright and warm, and the open window brought in the scent of wisteria. The morning sun highlighted the color in new things in the captain’s quarters. His private collection, eh? There was a touch of whimsy in the new stuff that implied a part of Byakuya that Renji had not seen much of lately -- a more playful, lighthearted side.

With a regretful sigh, Renji plopped himself down on the floor, to sit cross-legged. It would be a beautiful way to start their morning, but things were different now, weren’t they? Zabimaru was left behind, back in Renji’s quarters, because… Byakuya was an ass, damn it.

He couldn’t think about that. Not if he was going to make it through breakfast. “My apologies again for this morning,” Renji said, not needing to look under the baskets this time since he’d been in the kitchen while this tray was being made up. Renji set the cut flower in its vase over on Byakuya's bookshelf to move it out of the way. “I was seeing to some other business while the Third wandered away from his post.”

“Indeed,” Byakuya said disapprovingly. Settling into seiza opposite Renji, he reached across the table to pour Renji’s tea before filling his own bowl. “Still, I can’t complain too much, not when you mounted such a swift rescue. At least I was spared having to entertain Aizen through breakfast. I much prefer your company.”

Renji nodded absently; vaguely aware the captain had spoken. Instead, his eyes were riveted to the tea Byakuya had poured for him.

What the hell? And, so casually, too. Like, Byakuya could possibly still have an iota of respect for Renji after last night.

_Kiss my feet._

Who the fuck asked for that, and then turned around and poured tea the next morning?

“Is something wrong with the tea?” Byakuya brought his own bowl up to his nose and took a tentative sniff. He swirled it around curiously, and glanced back at Renji. “You look ready to growl at it.”

“Oh, uh. No, the tea is fine,” Renji managed to say. What was wrong was that Byakuya, of all people, hadn’t adjusted this ritual. Even after the alleyway, it had been all ‘you’re mine’ and ‘this is where I want you.’ Now Byakuya poured tea for them, offering Renji the first cup, like there was no significance to that gesture?

Perhaps there wasn’t.

 _Maybe_ , Renji told himself sullenly, _there never had been_.

Like the offer of his personal name, the whole tea thing may have been a calculated ‘gift’ on Byakuya's part, something that could easily be given because Renji would never take advantage of it.

“Are you quite sure?” Byakuya asked, still eyeing his own tea suspiciously. “Only you have such a sensitive nose and a good instinct. If something has gone off, you should tell me.”

Something gone off? Fuck, this whole relationship was past its sell by date. Renji pulled himself to his feet suddenly.

“I have to go,” Renji said quickly before the captain could protest. As he scurried over the threshold, he said over his shoulder, “There’s stuff—things I got to do.”

 

#

Byakuya noticed that Renji didn’t even take the time to put on his waraji; he’d just scooped them up and carried the sandals away with him as he fled. And the language again… the tiny mistake was deeply troubling.

Byakuya used a spoon to take a bite of the egg custard, and glanced at the empty spot where Renji had been. A setting for two, with tea growing cold at Renji’s place. Byakuya found he had to look away, focus on his own plate, rather than endure the sudden, surprisingly painful absence of his lieutenant.

Renji hadn’t even touched his food. It was unlike him.

Yet, he’d come without Zabimaru again. That was an improvement.

Though, Byakuya wondered, was not having his zanpaktō part of Renji’s problem, his jitteriness? Did it also explain his diction, his sloppy grammar? Renji and Zabimaru were too close in Byakuya’s opinion. And, because of that, Byakuya could far too easily imagine a scenario in which Zabimaru kept Renji from reverting to his Inuzuri style of speaking. They’d become acquainted in Academy, after all, when Renji was presumably working hard to lose all traces of his accent, the thing that marked him as from outside, the Rukongai.

Was it possible, that without his zanpaktō at his side, Renji forgot himself more easily?

To think that a man could become so dependent on his zanpaktō bothered Byakuya profoundly, but it certainly seemed possible in this case. When Byakuya had learned the truth about Renji’s tattoos, about what he was doing to his body for that demon—

Honestly? He’d been disgusted. It had been difficult to look at Renji’s body art the same way after that. Byakuya had always been so fascinated, but now… it was beyond unacceptable to be so subservient to the will of your zanpaktō that you would willingly transform your own skin to become more like it.

Which was meant to be the master, after all, the sword or the man?

Reniji's answer had become frighteningly clear that night Byakuya asked Renji if he could kill Rukia, if ordered to. Byakuya had seen it for himself: Zabimaru controlled Renji, not the other way around. It was against all natural order, and this relationship Renji had with his zanpaktō was true perversion in Byakuya's mind.

And, maybe, just maybe, if Byakuya could keep them apart, he could have the man and not the demon.

 

#

Renji almost ran into the aid that the Fourth Division had sent to keep an eye on Rukia. As it was, he had to quickly sidestep the kid. “Oi, watch where you’re going!”

Though, it was Renji who’d been preoccupied, and the little officer was almost a foot and a half shorter than Renji was—and Renji’d overlooked him. Literally. Renji was about to apologize for snapping unfairly when the kid flew into a flurry of bowing. “Oh! Sorry, sir,” the kid stammered nervously with another bow that nearly spilled the tray he was carrying.

Renji watched him with a shake of his head. What was this fool’s name? Tarō or something? No, it was something funny, something more girlish, longer. Hanatarō? Yeah, that was it.

“Give me that,” Renji said, taking the breakfast tray from him easily. Holding it with one hand, Renji checked under the baskets. Seeing them partially empty, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “She’s eating. Thank fate.”

“Thanks to _you_ , I should think,” Hanatarō said with another little respectful bow. “I understand you paid her a visit last night, sir, and now Ms. Rukia started talking to me a little today.”

“She did?”

Hanatarō nodded enthusiastically. He lifted his hands to take the tray from Renji, but pulled them back nervously. “Can I…? I mean, I should really get back to my other duties now, sir.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Renji offered suddenly, as a thought occurred to him. “I want to ask a favor of you.”

They’d started in the direction of the door, and it was a good thing Hanatarō wasn’t carrying the tray because he stumbled a little. He pointed to his nose bashfully, his big blue eyes wide. “A favor, sir? From me?”

“Yeah,” Renji said, nodding a passing greeting to one of the other officers from the Sixth. “But let’s talk about it outside.”

It wouldn’t due to have too many people overhear what he was about to say. Nothing Renji’d asked anyone to do so far could be qualified as treasonous, but he wanted to be as careful as possible. What had Miki said this morning? ‘His lordship can be overly strict in the interpretation of what’s proper.’ That was true enough, and Renji would be of no use to Rukia if he was in the guardhouse, too.

Once they were in the street, Renji returned the breakfast tray to Hanatarō. After too much bowing and stopping to pick up a bowl that rolled off onto the sidewalk, they started toward the Fourth Division barracks.

“So, this favor,” Renji said, once they found themselves surrounded by the morning bustle of the Seireitei. “It’s simple, really. If Rukia starts opening up, you know, about what happened in the human world, see if she’ll talk about that orange-haired boy she had to leave behind. The one the captain killed.”

Hanatarō’s eyes were getting bigger and bigger.

“Thing is,” Renji continued. “He was important to her. And, well, maybe you can help her make peace with what’s happened, before—“ He had to stop. Even though he was asking for this, Renji didn’t like to even entertain a possible future where Rukia died and needed to be at a place where she could accept her fate.

“Her brother killed her lover?” Hanatarō asked, tears in his eyes.

“Basically,” Renji said, though he had no idea if Rukia had gone that far with the kid. She loved him--that much seemed true.

“Oh, this is tragic,” Hanatarō said. “Much worse than I thought! Now they’ll miss each other! He’ll be reborn here, and she’ll go to the human world. Always missing each other as the wheel of fate and rebirth continues to turn! It’s awful.”

“Yeah,” Renji said, frowning at the thought. That orange-haired kid getting reborn here? Would that even happen, since Byakuya had cut his soul chain? Or would he get trapped by his failure to protect Rukia and be stuck in the human world, eventually turning into a Hollow?

Huh. It never occurred to Renji that that kid could be on the streets of the Rukongai even now. Even if he came over with only half the shinigami powers he’d had before, he’d still be a formidable opponent. Byakuya said he wouldn’t have any power left after he’d used the move-that-has-no-name on him, but that kid defined unpredictability. Renji had never known anyone who could suddenly up their reistsu quite like that kid had been able to. It couldn't all have belonged to Rukia...

If Hanatarō was right, that kid could be on his way here even now.

Because, somehow, Renji didn’t think that kid would give up on Rukia, not the way he’d fought for her--

 _Shit_. Would he know to look here, in the Seireitei? Did he know Rukia was in the court guard? How much had she told him about the Soul Society?

And, what was Renji going to do about it?

 _Nothing_ , he decided suddenly.

Even if that kid showed up here, demanding to see Rukia, there’s no way he’d be able to get past the gates. The Seireitei had repelled all attempts of invasion for hundreds of thousands of centuries. Anyway, he was just one kid, all alone. Even with all that determination, he'd never get far by himself.

Besides, Renji didn’t even know if that kid had even made it over yet. Maybe he was still dying slowly in some hospital somewhere.

It’d been a weird and uncharacteristic kindness, Byakuya not delivering the killing blow. The captain could be fussy about what he unsheathed Senbonzakura for, but the zanpaktō had already been drawn, blooded. Had Byakuya thought it through? Did he want to make sure Rukia had faced her punishment before that kid ended up in the Soul Society looking for revenge?

“Are you alright, sir?” Hanatarō asked, breaking Renji’s reverie. “We’ve been standing in the middle of the street a long time and, uh, people are staring.”

“Oh,” Renji said. “Yeah, listen, thanks for taking care of Rukia, Hanatarō. Keep up the good work. I… should get back.”

As Renji walked away he could hear Hanatarō say in shock, “He remembered my name. No one remembers my name.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hadn't really considered this before I started writing this chapter, but: what if Byakuya *had* made sure Ichigo was dead before heading back to the Soul Society? Would Ichigo have been waiting for them there? And, why didn't Urahara just let that happen? I mean, ultimately, Ichigo is stronger having his friends along, and having had a chance to train with Urahara and to become a Vizard, but... well, there's certainly an alternate universe where Ichigo just showed up, dead, ready to kick soul reaper butt. I suppose, though, in that universe he'd fail, because he could never have defeated Byakuya without his Hollow side, but it's an interesting thought, none-the-less.


End file.
